


Just A Little Off The Top

by A_Damned_Scientist



Category: Farscape
Genre: Challenge Response, Gen, Halloween, Horror, Shaggy Dog Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 01:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16378646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Damned_Scientist/pseuds/A_Damned_Scientist
Summary: During a drunken late night interlude aboard Moya, Sikozu spins a tale about her extreme hair cut between S4 and PKW.





	Just A Little Off The Top

**Author's Note:**

> May contain nuts. And Horror. And Smut (but not filthy smut).
> 
> Thanks to JJ for beta duties and suggestions and Scorpsik for the challenge. This was written for SC108 over on Gold 'Ole Terrafrima.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, mores the pity.

**Just a little off the top (R)**

  
“What’s Nosferatu up to this evening, then?” John asked, begrudging that Scorpius was even on Moya.  
  
“Scorpius prefers more... cerebral pursuits,” Sikozu explained. “He is most likely reading.”  
  
“Isn’t that your thing, too?” Chiana taunted her.  
  
“Have you not all... especially you, Chiana... repeatedly... told me that I need more of a real-Universe education?” Sikozu responded defiantly. D’Argo handed her another razlak and nodded.  
  
“So why the different hairstyle? What’s the story, Sputnik?” John asked outright the question that all the rest of the crew had been too polite, too uninterested or too sober to broach. But it was late, there were a dozen empty bottles of Razlak scattered across the central chamber table and they still all had one more sleep and one more epic hangover to go before Arnessk.  
  
“It’s a... I don’t want to talk about it.” She riposted flatly, sulkily.  
  
“But you looked so purty before.... all those... lovely red curls.” Aeryn shot him a filthy look which bounced straight off his alcohol-burnished-armour. Chiana and D’Argo exchanged knowing, flirty smirks. Stark slid slowly under the table, slurring something about high spirits. “Go on, tell us!”  
  
“You wouldn’t believe me if I did,” she announced with a superior air. Another of Moya’s light bulbs gave up the ghost, plunging the chamber into even deeper gloom.  
  
“We ought to replace some of those bulbs,” Chiana slurred to D’Argo.  
  
“Cant.” He stated flatly, shaking his tenkas. “Haven’t been able to get any new bulbs since we escaped from Crais. When they’re gone they’re gone.  
  
“Well that’s tinked!” Chiana pouted. Everyone else ignored their exchange as best they could.  
  
“Just tell him, “ Aeryn huffed at Sikozu, pouring another round of Razlak shots, demonstrating that she was the least unsober person at the table by somehow not spilling most of it over the sticky and wet table top. The DRDs were going to have their work cut out for them later cleaning up. “Otherwise he’s going to keep me awake going on about Hair Hair Hair. Again.” Aeryn rolled her eyes, lifted her glass and threw her head back. John shot her a hurt look. She shot him a pout and an arched eyebrow back.  
  
“Come on Sputnik, what’s the story?” John wheedled.  
  
“Well,” Sikozu leant in closer, conspiratorially, gesturing for all those still seated to do likewise. Aeryn, John, Chiana and D’Argo leant in, till their close circle of heads was blocking out almost all of what little light there was. Sikozu’s eyes sloshed from face to face, drawing them even closer in.  
  
“It was a Dark and Stormy night,” John slurred. Aeryn whacked him across the back of his head.  
  
“Quit whacking me woman!” He protested. She arched both eyebrows, especially for him.  
Sikozu shot them a withering glare. Then again, that was her normal expression, so it swept over their inebriated heads like a solar wind.  
  
“It was Braca who started it,” Sikozu intimated in a whisper. “I think he was jealous, of me and Scorpius, so to make me less attractive he insisted I get a regulation Peacekeeper hair cut...”  
  
“There’s no such thing as a regulation Peacekeeper hair...” Aeryn announced, affronted at Sikozu’s blatant lie.  
  
“Shh!” John held up a wavering finger.  
  
“Don’t ‘shh’ me, John Crichton, I would know!” She pouted tossing her hair ostentatiously.  
  
“Please, can we just hear the story?” D’Argo butted in with a weary sigh, taking Time Out from canoodling with Chiana.  
  
“So there I was, strapped to the barber’s chair...”  
  
“STRAPPED! NO!” Aeryn protested. “THAT WOULD NEVER...”  
  
“AERYN!” Everyone remonstrated with her as one. She succumbed into a grumpy, muttering almost-silence.   
  
_“Wouldn’t happen....”_  
  
D’Argo poured another round of razlaks.  
  
“Do go on,” John invited her, momentarily drowning out Aeryn’s barely audible mutterings.  
  
“And in walked Braca, that stupid grin upon his face...”  
  
“Now you ARE being silly, Braca doesn’t have any facial expressions,” John protested as Aeryn started drunkenly whistling the melody to ‘I Will Survive’. Sikozu dismissed them both with a wave of her hand.  
  
“’Those eyebrows aren’t regulation either!’ Braca announced,” Sikozu recounted in a hushed, dramatic whisper. “The barber got out the eyebrow tweezers. The really big, nasty ones.” Aeryn winced visibly. “‘And those skin scales aren’t very Sebacean. We run a pure ship here!’ Braca insisted. The barber got out the powered sanding machine and laid it on his table. ‘And those eye balls are completely out of order on a Peacekeeper vessel!’ Braca declared. Naturally, I struggled to free myself... The barber took out his eyeball scoops and polished them on his tabard. I was horrified to find, I was held fast. I could not free myself.” John was wincing now.  
  
“That’s ridiculous, what about Scorpy?” Chiana pipped in.  
  
“Shh, Pip,” John hushed her, pouring her another razlak. She tossed the glassful back in one.  
  
“Well he isn’t pure Sebacean!” Chi persisted. “And Braca seems fine with him!”  
  
“Shh!” John, Aeryn and D’Argo all hissed.  
  
“The barber lifted the eyeball scoop first,” Sikozu paused and lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper as she continued. “And that was when.... Braca announced that even what was in my head was wrong for a Peacekeeper vessel... The barber slowly put down the scoop, opened his draw, and pulled out his...” A wicked grin creased Sikozu’s face. “He took out his chainsaw...” Sikozu took a long pause, a long slug of razlak and, seeming bored and unconcerned with continuing her tale, turned her head aside and scratched the side of her nose.  
  
“Aeryn, do you have any blonde hair dye?” Sikozu asked apropos of nothing to do with her tale.  
  
“Well, what happened next?” John demanded.  
  
“How did you get away?” Chi enquired breathlessly. Aeryn shook her head.  
  
“Fine. Braca...” Sikozu continued. “Braca left momentarily and returned with a large, glass bell jar, in which there was a head... A disembodied head. A head very much like this one.” Sikozu pointed to her own head.   
  
“You got that idea from Futurama, didn’t you?” John asked with an uneasy grin. Other than snorting disdainfully, Sikozu ignored his question.  
  
“‘This is a far superior model, new and improved! Less the pretty seductress, more the snarky sidekick!’ Braca taunted me. The barber started up the chain saw and....”  
  
Sikozu took another pause. “The next few macrots were a bit of a blur.”  
  
“Ew!”  
  
“NO!”  
  
“You’re kidding!”  
  
“As I’m sure you can imagine....” Sikozu continued, ignoring their protests. “But as you know, my body can reattach severed parts... So.... soon enough... I was as you see me. All that remained was for me to replace my red outfit with a black one. To match my new look. And of course to satisfy Captains Braca’s aesthetic sensibilities.”  
  
“She’s kidding right?” John grinned, nervous and uneasy. “I mean, that wouldn’t.... that couldn’t happen, right?” Sikozu shrugged and casually took another swig of razlak as John peered at her neck, trying to spot a join.   
  
“Made you look, didn’t she?” D’Argo guffawed, elbowing John in the ribs.  
  
“She’s been having us on, spinning us a yarn...” John protested, seeking reassurance from one of his shipmates. It was not as forthcoming as he had hoped.  
  
“How else do you explain,” Sikozu waved her fingers up and down in front of her head. “All of this. And if you still don’t believe me...” she leant in close, only a couple of drenches from John’s horrified face and grinned a wicked grin. “Ask Braca to give you some head and show you his bell... jar when you next see him.”  
  
"I don't want to shee Braca'sh bell jar," John protested, the razlak slurring his words.  
  
The entire assembly, except for John, erupted in laughter. The four of them laughed so loud that the cacophony even woke Stark up.  
  
  
The end.


End file.
